


why uncle phil and uncle jasper aren't allowed to [REDACTED] on SHIELD [CLASSIFIED] anymore

by girl0nfire



Series: adventures of the soviet superfamily [4]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: Dasha Romanova-Barnes, F/M, Gen, SHIELD agents don't die, soviet superfamily, they just go on vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 13:44:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/515821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl0nfire/pseuds/girl0nfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agents Coulson and Sitwell take Dasha on vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	why uncle phil and uncle jasper aren't allowed to [REDACTED] on SHIELD [CLASSIFIED] anymore

“So, how’d you die this time? I haven’t had a chance to read the debrief yet.”

Sitwell takes a bite of the donut in his hand, managing to get powdered sugar precisely _everywhere_ but his mouth. He chews thoughtfully for a moment before answering.

“Doom had one of his goons shoot me in the back during Barnes’ last security op. Tell you what, that’s not the way I’d want to go out. Stung like _crazy_.”

Coulson nods, because he knows, and cranks the wheel as they round a corner. “I hear that.”

Here’s the thing about SHIELD: most agencies, if you’ve served for a good long time, they’ll congratulate you with a wristwatch or a plaque or a cake or something. Not SHIELD. Once you pass the seven-years-of-faithful-service mark, the only congratulations you’re getting is the chance to choose how you fake your own death.

It’s a rite of passage among the senior agents; whenever Fury needs a “push,” or when one of the operatives gets cocky, or hell, when Maria feels like saddling Tony with extra death-on-duty paperwork as punishment for pissing her off, they all draw straws to see who has to snuff it this time. Winner gets an all-expense paid week of vacation someplace faraway and bragging rights if they manage to make anyone cry.

It had been the perfect storm this week: Barnes and Romanov off on a mission, Rogers in deep cover somewhere in Germany, Stark fielding tech questions at some conference in Dubai on Pepper’s orders. Sitwell and Coulson hadn’t had anything to do; for all intents and purposes, they were both dead.

Which is how they ended up on baby duty, all three of them packed and outfitted in their best secret-agent sunglasses, headed for the airport. Phil pushes his shades down his nose and gazes at Dasha through the rearview mirror, a small smile on his face.

Dasha gurgles from her perch in the grey-and-blue car seat behind them, her tiny hands curled around her favorite stuffed Captain America doll. 

“You know, Sitwell, you should talk to them. I think Barnes and Romanov are the only two people left who don’t realize that she’s their daughter.”  
Sitwell snorts, sending a cloud of powdered sugar dusting up from his face. He wipes the back of his sleeve across his mouth and fixes Coulson with a smirk.

“Really, you think they’ll listen to me? How long did it take me to convince Barnes that teleportation was safe, you really think that he’d listen to me about _adopting a baby_?”

“Think about it, Agent. I think we’ve all gotten a little too attached already. I’d hate to see Dasha head off somewhere else; we’d be dealing with a lot more than two emotionally compromised operatives.”

Jasper _hmms_ in agreement, twisting in his seat to check on the tiny girl. By now she’s fast asleep, the warmth of the spring day and the gentle purr of the car lulling her.

“You’re right, Phil. Once I’m back in the land of the living, they’ll be my first brief.”

“Good luck.” Coulson pulls them smoothly into a parking spot, killing the engine. “Sorry about the shot in the back. Doom sucks.”

“Doom _sucks_ ,” Sitwell agrees, nodding his head. “Can’t complain about the vacations, though.”

“True. You know what I heard one of the interns calling them?” Phil’s already chuckling.

“What?”

“‘Brocations’. You know, just two bros on vacation.”

Sitwell joins him, chuckling as he gets out of the car and opens the back door. Reaching to unbuckle Dasha’s carseat, he gently slides the oversized, mirrored sunglasses off her small face. He holds them up to catch Coulson’s attention.

“Were these really necessary, Phil?”

“Come on, Jasper. Live a little. If we’re going to brocation together, the least you’ve got to do is allow me my _Hangover_ joke.”

Slipping the sunglasses in his breast pocket and shaking his head, Sitwell picks up the still-sleeping girl, resting her head against his shoulder. 

“As long as you promise no tigers, no hookers, and no face tattoos.”

Coulson pops the trunk, retrieving their luggage.

“I’m afraid that information is classified, Agent.”


End file.
